


Call it Religion (even after everything you've put me through, I'll still worship you)

by dejaentends



Category: Bully (Video Games), The Handmaid's Tale (TV), The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
Genre: Jimmy is kinda oc but i think he'd just be beaten down, M/M, Parody, but honestly i think this is decent, happy birthday kala, i tried to use as many different words for penis as possible without writing a sex scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:39:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28354821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dejaentends/pseuds/dejaentends
Summary: The characters of Bully set in the Handmaid's Tale universe. Gary is a Commander, Jimmy is his Handmaid and Petey is his Martha. This is a joke fic I wrote for a friend because of an offhand comment she made.
Relationships: Jimmy Hopkins/Gary Smith
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Call it Religion (even after everything you've put me through, I'll still worship you)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a joke birthday gift for a friend who never read fanfiction to give her a taste of what fanfic is like. Due to the seriousness of the themes in both universes, but especially Handmaid's Tale, this isn't a pleasant setting. I purposely did not deal with the issues of power imbalances, patriarchy, rape, and trans issues in an amazing way. However, since I did not want a joke fic to be too dark I explicitly included consent and avoided anything violent towards trans people. Jimmy is a trans man who was detransitioned in this fic, and it is discussed a bit. I wrote similarly to the way a cis teenager trying to be woke would.

It had been three years—three years since Gilead formed, overtook the United States, and Jimmy became a Handmaid. He supposed Handmaid was preferable to Gender Traitor, hung on the wall for all to see. Other times he supposed death topped this red hell he lived in. Maybe if he died his next life would start soon, maybe in his next life he’d be born in Japan, or India, Australia, somewhere far away from Gilead and American Christianity.

  
Three years, one baby, praise be, and two postings. His first Commander, the disgusting Crabblesnitch, gave Jimmy his first child. It was a shock the old bastard could still get it up, but he managed to make a healthy child. Thankfully that meant Jimmy would never be declared an Unwoman and sent to the Colonies, but Jimmy’d rather not be considered a woman at all. But this Commander—this Commander was something else. A sick, twisted man just a few years older than Jimmy, by the name of Gary Smith. Jimmy hated every time a Martha or fellow Handmaid called out Ofgary to him. The slight similarity to his chosen name made it all the worse; for a split second he’d forget his identity had been stripped away, reduced to nothing but a uterus, he’d forget who he was forced to be. Then he’d remember.

  
Ofgary.

Morning light streamed into Jimmy’s room in the attic of the Smith residence. Jimmy watched it dance over the dust particles, filter through the paper thin curtains. Too thin to hang yourself from. What made that death so much more satisfying than the same on the wall, state-sanctioned? Control? Knowing the horror he’d inflict on Commander Smith’s stupid, vapid wife when she found him? Jimmy rose from bed, remembering Aunt Danvers’ reminder of Palms 5:3, “O Lord, in the morning you hear my voice; in the morning I prepare a sacrifice for you and watch.”

  
Jimmy pulled his uncomfortably long hair into the prescribed bun and went to wash up. When the Guardians took him in and stopped his testosterone, his skin had begun to sag and age him unnaturally, but luckily vanity forced them to start him on estrogen. If he had to be a woman he wanted to be hot. Dressed in red, he headed downstairs for a quiet breakfast. The Martha, Petey, had set out a setting for Jimmy, as well as Commander Smith. Unusual.

  
“Blessed be the fruit,” Commander Smith greeted without looking up from his plate.  
“May the lord open,” Jimmy answered.

  
“Mrs. Smith is visiting her mother, and I wanted to start my day with some company. Remind me of who I’m doing it all for,” He looked up at Jimmy and smiled, or was it a smirk? Jimmy’s cheeks flushed, unsure about the extra attention. He supposed it was preferable to being alone.

  
“That’s so kind of you, sir. I’d love to keep you company while Mrs. Smith is away,” Jimmy replied, somewhat coyly.

  
Commander Smith gave Jimmy an aparasing look, a once over. A memory rose sharply in Jimmy’s mind of men, even women, checking him out in the street in the times before Gilead. Usually before yelled come-on, a “Hey ma,” or “What’s good, baby?”. Was Commander Smith checking Jimmy out? Jimmy’s mind raced—did he want this to go unnoticed, or did the Commander want a response? Jimmy barely remembered how to flirt, especially how to flirt as a woman with a misogynistic man. Why did he even want to flirt back in the first place?

  
A small, feminine smile seemed the best response. Jimmy kept his eyes locked with Commander Smith’s while bringing his cup of tea to his lips. The Commander’s smirk grew wider, until he looked away and said, “Well, I must head out and start my day. It was a pleasure, ladies.”

A quick smile at Petey, and then Commander Smith was out the door. Jimmy didn’t realize how much his heart was racing until the front door slammed shut. He felt a strong blush rising in his cheeks—for the second time this morning the Commander made him blush. It’d been years since Jimmy had experienced this, he could barely place the feelings running through him. A yearning , a physical need that neither food or sleep would fulfill.

  
Jesus Christ, did Jimmy want the Commander!? He’d already had the Commander, if the monthly ritual counted (Jimmy didn’t count that as sex, as the ritual made it too clinical and unenjoyable). But now… something different. All the years as an unsexed concubine almost made Jimmy forget how it is to desire another person, to feel desired back. Excitement rose in Jimmy’s chest along with his long-buried lust. Did he always want the Commander, or did it just start now? Before Gilead Jimmy loved bad boys, and the Commander’d fit the bill even before the founding of Gilead. A long scar over his left eye, short hair with a bit of an undercut that definitely was not regulation, and sharp bones structure—all classic features of a man that’ll get you into trouble. Jimmy wanted trouble.

Jimmy spent the rest of his day in the standard routine. Stop at Loaves and Fishes for Petey, help cook lunch and prepare for dinner, and then sit around. Jimmy used a bit of butter to moisturize—something he hasn't done in months—all in an effort to impress his Commander. Jimmy felt like a little girl again. When his walking mate, Ofbif, picked him up from the front gate on the way to the store, Jimmy was still in a tizzy—blushing, nervous, Commander Smith’s smirk playing over and over in his mind. Jimmy’s mind wandered dangerously, thinking about the Commander’s sultry, pink lips brushing against his own, his neck, his check, then down down down…

  
Jimmy stopped himself, bringing himself back to the conversation with Ofbif. She’d been rambling on about the weather and the war while Jimmy let himself succumb to lust. The Aunts had warned them of this in the Leah and Rachel Center: The Commanders are not to be lusted after. Their relations are ceremonial and clinical. Jimmy never thought he’d want an old, shriveled Commander and almost laughed out loud when Aunt Edna suggested it. How right she was.

“Ofbif,” Jimmy began. “Do you remember our, um, training in the Rachel and Leah Center?” Ofbif’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Yes, of course I do. A fresh start for all of us who used to be hussies. Or gender traitors. A wonderful time.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes and continued, “Do you remember being told not to lust after Commanders? But, it can’t be so wrong, can it? It’ll make for a happier—”

“A happier NOTHING!” Ofbif cut in. “That’s disgusting! You always rock the boat, don’t you Ofgary? First a gender traitor, almost ruining your ability to conceive, and now trying to… sleep with your Commander? Ugh. I know Gary’d do it, too. He was a little monster.”

“Fine, fine! I was just wondering… I thought I’d hate him, y’know? For taking all of this power, giving us none. But I can’t bring myself to. He wasn’t always a monster.” Jimmy, Commander Smith, and Ofbif had all gone to the same college, Bullworth University. Usually those who knew each other before skated around the fact, in case they said something worth being put on the wall. But Jimmy remembered Ofbif, and knew she wasn’t a snitch. Even if she was a bit of a coward.

Ofbif stopped walking, and turned to face Jimmy. “Look, Jimmy. I know you guys were friends once, so maybe Gary just wanted to protect you when he selected you as his Handmaid. But he still set up this world so he could fuck as many girls as he wanted and call it religion.”

Jimmy told himself Ofbif was right. Gary Smith had been a manipulative bully in college, and he was the same in Gilead, just with a fancy title. But even back in college, Jimmy knew a small part of him loved Gary’s gravitas, his arrogance and his mean streak. Now, in a world controlled by Commander Smith and his bully friends, all of that arrogance and meanness was turned up about five notches, and Jimmy was Commander Smith’s plaything just as he had been Gary’s.

As Jimmy contemplated his sexy predicament, Commander Smith arrived home loudly, calling to Petey to remove his coat and pour him a double on the double. Jimmy hurriedly smoothed out his dress and pulled out his hair wrap, letting it fall freely to his waist. He took the steps in twos and arrived in the kitchen as Petey poured the whiskey, on the rocks with lemon zest.

“Here, I’ll take it. And make me one as well.” Petey’s signature worried look crossed her face.

“Jaime,” Jimmy’s old name, for Petey daren’t call him by his real name where the Commander could hear, “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I’m standing in for Mrs. Smith. She drinks!” Jimmy exclaimed. Petey’s eyes darted to the office that the Commander was waiting in. She didn’t want to keep him waiting.

“Fine, fine! Just don’t blame me if he’s upset!”

Jimmy happily grabbed the two glasses and hurried to the Commander’s office. The door stood ajar, he knocked on the doorframe and waited in silence for Commander Smith to acknowledge him. Jimmy never entered the Commander’s office, no women were allowed, though Commander Smith sometimes invited Mrs. Smith in and closed the door, no doubt up to some illicit activity that women of privilege weren’t really banned from. Like so many rules for show, to keep order, to keep the poor majority like Jimmy, the other Handmaids, and people like Marthas and Econowives from any scrap of power. The office contained every sin—books, cigars, and Commander Gary Smith.

“Come on in,” Commander Smith finally answered. “And close the door behind you.”

Jimmy smiled, not too sweetly or sexily, and walked over the desk where Commander Smith stood.

“Here’s for you, Commander Smith. And for me?” Jimmy raised his voice and his own glass in a slight question—Jimmy long ago learned men love the idea of an adventurous, playful woman who pushes boundaries and buttons, but only on their terms. Gary smirked at Jimmy, an invitation. Jimmy took a small sip.

“Take a seat, Ofgary. Take a rest after a long day,” Gary commanded. Jimmy sat facing the desk, in a position an errant student would be in for a visit to the principal.

“I’m sure your day was much harder than mine, Commander,” Jimmy replied with a hint of flirtation.

Gary sat across from Jimmy, taking the place of the principal. “Please, call me Gary. Like the old days.” Jimmy giggled at the reference to their shared past, where even without a whole system in place Gary always had the upper hand. Sometimes it felt kismet.

“Whatever you want, Gary.” Calling him by his name sent a shiver up Jimmy’s spine; he wondered if he could ask Gary to call him Jimmy again. Gary smirked again; Jimmy wondered if he’d ever seen him smile genuinely. Maybe once or twice, after…

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Gary had drunk half his glass. “Moreover, my day’s been terrible. The war with the Americans is heightening, they managed to make off with some of the nuclear supply. I’ve said to the council we have the power to nuke them now and win the war, but they’re hesitant. I say, radiation can be as purifying as the fire.” Gary shot back the rest of his drink, and Jimmy took a long sip as well.

“I see what you mean—if people are dying anyway, why draw out the pain and suffering?” Jimmy offered in reply.

“Exactly right!” Gary answered. “They’re being too soft, like they’ve never read the Old Testament. God uses His wrath as a weapon of good. It’s a sin when it goes too far, but not in general. Sometimes I wonder if this rigid, ceremonial theology holds us back.”

Jimmy nodded and finished his whiskey. He felt a flush growing in his cheeks. He loved when Gary talked about his plans for world domination. At age twenty they seemed like a far off and slightly deranged dream. Now Jimmy wondered how he ever doubted Gary Smith.

Gary got up from his seat and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from a large mahogany cabinet to refill their drinks. Jimmy turned to face him as Gary poured into Jimmy’s glass, putting Jimmy’s face even with Gary’s crotch. Jimmy blushed a deep crimson and Gary looked smugly down at him, tilting his head forward slightly. Jimmy slowly drew his eyes back down Gary’s broad chest to his hips to the clear hardness between his legs. Gary finished his pour and took a seat on the desk with his legs wide open, facing Jimmy, his own drink in hand. Jimmy unconsciously kept his eyes fixed to Gary’s manhood, desire pooling low in his belly.

“Drink up,” Gary ordered. Jimmy brought his drink to his lips without a thought and took a large gulp. Without the lemon the whiskey was almost too bitter for Jimmy, after years of abstinence. He loved it. Jimmy placed the half drunk whiskey on the desk. Gary shot his back, glared at Jimmy, and ordered, “No. Finish it.” Without thought, Jimmy obeyed.

Gary put a hand to Jimmy’s cheek, gently touching him before moving it further back into Jimmy’s hair.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t ya Jimmy? I know you.” Jimmy’s heart raced at being called by his name. “You’ve always liked being under my thumb.” Gary stroked his hand back along Jimmy’s jaw, running his thumb over his bottom lip.

A sudden knock at the door and a lurch in Jimmy’s stomach cut through the moment.

“What?” Commander Smith called out in a cold but controlled voice

“Um, Sir, I have dinner if you’d like it,” Petey nervously called through the door. Gary looked down at Jimmy and raised an eyebrow. Another choice. A real choice, for once. Jimmy shook his head softly, as to not move Gary’s hand from his face.

“Leave it in the kitchen. You’re dismissed for the night.”

Slow footsteps faded into the hallway. Gary put his other hand on the back of Jimmy’s head, fingers tangled in his hair. Gary leaned forward and pulled Jimmy closer simultaneously, crashing their lips together with a violent passion.

Jimmy wrapped his arms around Gary, pulling himself closer to the cruel man. Feeling Gary’s hard cock press into his stomach sent new waves of arousal through Jimmy. Gary reached behind himself to pull one of Jimmy’s hands off his back and place it on his member. He bit hard on Jimmy’s lip before breaking their kiss.

“Call me ‘sir’ during,” Gary commanded.

“Yes, Sir,” Jimmy answered, rubbing Gary’s hard rod through his trousers.

Every evening until Mrs. Smith came back Gary fucked Jimmy in his office. Jimmy awoke each morning hungry and sore and more devoted to Commander Smith than the day before. Each evening before they fucked Gary and Jimmy talked like they had in their youth, made fun of stuffy Commander’s and dear Petey’s endless nerves surrounding the situation. In the back of his mind, Jimmy knew if found out they’d all be put on the wall. In an even darker part of his mind he began to realize why he put himself through the anxiety and fear: because, just like in college, he secretly loved Gary Smith.

Every morning they greeted each other by their state titles but every night they called each other by their real names, and even on his knees he felt more respect being called “Jimmy” than being called “Ofgary” fully clothed in the light of day. Commander Smith even began to slip, brushing Jimmy’s hand on the table or kissing him in the backyard. Jimmy wondered if Gary loved him too.

Then, the worst thing. Mrs. Smith returned from her mother's. After a week and a half of breakfast shared with the Commander, Jimmy and Petey returned to eating just the two of them. Petey refused to speak to Jimmy aside from the required questions. One day, less than a week since Mrs. Smith returned, Petey asked Jimmy if he needed his napkins.

Jimmy’s mouth gaped. “Oh my god—no. How many days has it been?”

“Five,” Petey replied coldly. “It should’ve happened around when Mrs. Smith returned. I’ll let her know the good news.”

Jimmy felt nothing, at first. Then joy–he may carry Gary’s child inside of him! Then fear at Mrs. Smith taking the baby. Then at the Aunts taking Jimmy away, to serve another Commander, never to see Gary again.

He knew only one solution, a tried and true solution Jimmy knew well. Run away. Find a safe house. Hide. And this time, take Gary with him.


End file.
